


I Cannot Stand the Sight of Blood

by atlas_white



Category: Gaston (Bande Dessinée)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_white/pseuds/atlas_white
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaston unveils his latest invention-- a great new tomato peeler! But when something goes terribly wrong with this odd contraption, causing it to explode, Prunelle is put in a critical condition....and Gaston is left fearing for the other man's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Gaston Lagaffe & Léon Prunelle - I Cannot Stand the Sight of Blood_

An ordinary day at the _"Spirou"_ office, that's all it was. The editorial staff worked hard, Gaston did not, and Prunelle tried to change that by way of hovering over the lazy office boy and shouting at him whenever he fell asleep on the job.

Gaston was not sleeping right now, though. He was working on a new invention. It was a weird-looking contraption with a lot of pipes and gears and little parts that stuck out. It had a wide, open compartment in the front, with a small paring knife poised over a plate inside.

"See, Prunelle?" Gaston asked proudly.

"Oh, I see it." Prunelle said dryly, crossing his arms. He sighed. "I know I'm gonna regret this, but we might as well get it over with.... What does it do?"

Gaston grinned. He turned and picked up a big, ripe tomato off of the desk, and held it up for Prunelle to see. The editor was not impressed, but that didn't faze Gaston at all.

"See this tomato?" He declared. "My machine's gonna peel it without cutting out any of the other stuff! No hassle, no nicked fingers."

"What's the point in that?" Prunelle asked.

Gaston decided to show him rather than explain it, so he put the tomato in the compartment on the plate, in front of the knife. He reached over and turned the switch, Then he moved to stand off to the side of the machine, so that Prunelle could see it in action as it grumbled to life, shuddering. Prunelle tilted his head curiously, Gaston turned to look at the machine, but it did not seem to be peeling the tomato, just shaking really hard.... and it was making a very odd, fizzling sound, now....

It started to spark, then, and in the next instant, it exploded.

The whole building seemed to shake; maybe it did. Gaston was knocked to the ground by the force, as shrapnel and pieces of tomato went everywhere. The air was quickly filled with thick, black smoke.

It took a moment for Gaston to recover enough to get back up and open the window to release the smoke. Fortunately, he managed to do it before it got out of hand.

" _Bouf,_ " Gaston sighed. "I must have calibrated it wrong."

But, something else was wrong. He looked at the smoking, sparking wreckage of his invention, and the pieces of tomato splattered on the walls as he tried to think of what it could be. He could hear people running in the hall to come and check things out, but in the room, all was quiet except for the hiss and fizzle of the wreckage.

Oh. Gaston turned to look at Prunelle, who was not shouting at him. Instead, the editor was lying on the ground at the foot of the filing cabinet on the opposite side of the room, perfectly still. He was not getting up, not getting angry. Gaston thought he must have gotten knocked out or something, and went over to him as the door flung open.

"What happened?" Lebrac asked breathlessly.

"Is everybody okay? Gaston?" Jef added.

Gaston didn't know how to answer that. What he'd found wasn't something he'd never seen before, and in truth, he was stunned.

Blood. He had seen cuts and scrapes bleed, but this was something new and horrifying. There was so much of it, stark red on Prunelle's pristine white shirt. And in the middle of it all, there was a piece of metal jutting out of his chest, stuck in deep-- the knife. His glasses had been knocked off his face and were badly broken. He was a mess. And oh, he was so still, it didn't even look like he was breathing, but that couldn't be right. Of course he was breathing.

"Prunelle?" Gaston whispered. "C'mon, Prunelle...."

"Oh my God," Lebrac gasped, and knelt next to him. "Call an ambulance, call an ambulance!" He cried, looking back at Jef.

The Flemish man ran for the telephone. No one else entered the room. Lebrac lifted Prunelle's wrist, fingers pressed against the skin, and then took his hand in his and started to speak to him in hurried, quiet tones.

"Léon," he pleaded, "I don't know if you can hear me, but you've gotta stay with me, Léon, please."

They were best friends, and they had been since high school. Prunelle had recommended Lebrac for the job here so they could work together. Gaston knew this, and it put a sickening sinking in his belly that he didn't understand, but knew he hated.

He tried to say something, but he couldn't think of anything to say. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He tried to remember all those things you were supposed to do when someone was hurt. Make sure they had room to breathe, something about keeping some part of the body elevated.... No, that didn't make any sense.

So instead, Gaston sat there on the floor, silent, listening to Lebrac talk to Prunelle, even though he probably couldn't hear him, and watching Prunelle's face. It looked eerie to him, still as though he were sleeping, his lips slightly parted. He looked very different without his glasses. Gaston kind of wanted to put them back on his face, but he could see that they were too damaged to wear, anymore. Maybe he could make it up to him by buying him new ones.

It wasn't long before the paramedics came and took Prunelle away on a stretcher. Gaston followed after them, and so did Lebrac, and the entirety of the redaction parted to make way for them. There was a lot of murmuring, but none of it really seemed like words to Gaston. It sounded altogether more like waves, so as they parted and pressed themselves against the walls, the people around them reminded him of the Red Sea in the Bible.

It was a weird thing to think, but it was better than focusing on the fact that they were on their way to the hospital. Gaston had been in hospitals before, and he hated it. He did not want to think about it at all if he could possibly help it.

Only one person could go in the ambulance with Prunelle. Gaston did not argue when Lebrac automatically took this position, instead watching silently as he climbed in after them and they shut the doors on the back of that unnerving white vehicle. He was hurting, too, but he was sure he didn't need an ambulance, himself.

So, Gaston went straightaway to his little Fiat and followed them to the hospital. It was very slow, especially compared to an ambulance, and it was quiet, because he didn't have a radio. His mind had a lot of time to wander on the way. He tried not to think about the hospital, but he couldn't help dreading that he had to go there again. He had been the patient, before, and that was no fun because he was not able to walk around and do as he pleased. It was kinda nice having his friends come to wish him well and bring him cards and pretty flowers, though.

And he had visited Prunelle when he'd been in the hospital after an accident with one of his inventions in the past, but he'd only had some broken bones, no big deal. And then, it was kind of funny, but once the both of them had shared a room after a minor car accident. They had only had to stay overnight. Prunelle had been in a bad mood, but Gaston hadn't minded the stay.

Gaston had also visited his pal Spirou and his cousin Fantasio in the hospital, too, but that was very different, because they had gotten hurt by some bad guy who'd really meant to do them harm. He remembered how much he disliked seeing the two of them that way, because he thought of them as the two strongest and cleverest men in the world, and when they were all weak and laid-up in the hospital, it had just seemed.... _wrong._

Gaston tried to tell himself that this was really no big deal. Normally, it was very easy for him to brush off this sort of thing, dismiss it and think about something he liked better, like his pets, or the animals in the zoo, or what invention he might work on next. But he could not shake the image of Prunelle lying on the floor with all this blood everywhere, and all of it from him. No matter how he looked at it, that image couldn't be dismissed as no big deal.

Gaston shook his head and tried to think positively instead. Prunelle would be just fine. He was always just fine. How could this be any different? He felt badly about having hurt Prunelle, because he liked the editor very much, so he decided he'd try thinking up something nice he could do for him later on. He would get him new glasses, and maybe he could sort out the late mail or something.

He'd definitely have to make this up to him.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was just beginning to set by the time Gaston arrived at the hospital. He parked his car and went in with just the same kind of walk he always sported. He thought that maybe he should have stopped to get flowers for when Prunelle woke up, but it was much too late for that now. He needed to get up there to him.

He went right to the front desk, where a tired-looking young woman was looking distractedly at some papers.

"Excuse me," Gaston asked. "Can you tell me where I can find Léon Prunelle?"

It felt kind of weird saying Prunelle's first name, Gaston thought absently, but he liked the sound when he said it out loud. Funny, before today, he was sure he hadn't heard it more than once or twice since they'd first met. What a day that had been....

He got caught up in thinking about that while the woman said something and looked at something and then got up. She had to ask someone else, but he was pretty sure that was normal. He didn't pay it much mind as he remembered that fateful encounter, distracting himself from this unpleasantness.

He had liked Prunelle from the first time he'd seen him. The editor was a few years older than Gaston, and there were things about him-- his strong voice, his deep brown eyes that looked at him from behind professional-looking glasses, and skin the color of coffee with cream that seemed so exotic-- that had left an impression on him. Was that odd? Now that he thought about it, those were maybe odd things to notice.

"Are you family, monsieur?"

"Am I what?" Gaston was startled out of his reverie, and the question made no sense to him.

"Are you family?" The receptionist repeated. "An immediate relative of Monsieur Prunelle's?"

Gaston frowned. "No. Is he okay?"

"He was brought in to the emergency room half an hour ago," The receptionist said. "He's in surgery now. No word when he will be out, but it probably won't be before very late tonight, so...."

"I'll wait," Gaston interrupted. "Thanks."

He went without another word and sat down in the large waiting area. There were, at the time, a number of people sitting there already, but for once he wasn't feeling particularly chatty. So he just stayed by himself and kept his mind occupied reading magazines.

Time went by slowly, agonizingly slowly. Gaston read the articles he liked, and when nothing had changed, he read the articles he didn't like so much. People got up and left, and other people came in and sat down. The hours dragged on, and Gaston tried to keep himself occupied with the magazines, because if he thought about anything else, somehow that image of Prunelle would creep back into his mind.

Prunelle was really hurt. He was not just getting patched up and kept for observation, he was really in surgery now. That was serious. All that blood on the front of his shirt was serious. Prunelle's condition was serious. And despite all his activism, Gaston was not able to deal with serious.

He was starting to realize that he had no idea what would happen now. Would Prunelle really be okay? What if he didn't make it?

Gaston's breath hitched, and his eyes widened. He had never in his life thought about that possibility that he might lose someone dear to him. He had lost his father at a very young age, and did not really remember him--he'd been raised by his aunt Hortense more than his mother, but coddled by the both of them-- but he had never faced the possibility of losing someone now that he was old enough to know what that meant.

But now he might lose Prunelle.

Prunelle might die.

At this very moment, the editor was in surgery, and what did that mean? What would happen next? When would Gaston get some news? And when he did, what kind of news would he receive? Who would give it to him-- a doctor, the receptionist, or.... Gaston hesitated.

What if it was Lebrac, coming to him with his eyes all red and wet, telling him before he even spoke that he would never see Prunelle again? Gaston felt a horrible shiver run down his spine like nothing he had ever experienced before.

Gaston quickly grabbed another magazine and started to read some inane article about the last movie the American Fred Astaire had been in before he retired and how that might reflect a trend in newer films.... something like that. He thought very hard about this article, no matter how dull it was, and tried to concentrate on all the little words on the page like he was trying to solve a riddle that only they could unlock.

It worked, but before very long, the words became blurry, his eyes growing tired. He felt sleep washing quickly over him, pulling him under very easily just like it always did back at the office. His last thought as he drifted off was that he had really never been good at riddles.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a dark and somber afternoon, the sky dark gray with clouds. Not a single bird sang. Everybody from the Spirou office, Fantasio and Spirou included, was gathered beneath that solemn sky by a tall, gloomy tree whose branches seemed to droop. They were all of them wearing black, all of them very quiet, and most of them had tears in their eyes. There was a priest reading a passages from the Holy Bible. Fred Astaire was present.

Gaston looked around wordlessly at the mourners. There were a few who stood out to him. M'oiselle Jeanne was biting her lip and dabbing her face with a little hankie. Jef and Bertje had never seemed so quiet or so dismal. Spirou was leaning against Fantasio, and tears were trickling down their faces. Sonia had her hands clasped tightly together and her head bowed low so her face was hard to see. And Lebrac, he looked like he'd turned to stone, his eyes not looking anywhere but straight ahead, dry as if he had cried his last tear. Mister Astaire just seemed sort of out of place, but he was dressed appropriately and he was very sober.

Gaston noticed that Prunelle was not among them. He started to look for him, quietly, but he did not call out. He did not want to upset everyone by disrupting the funeral. Who was it for, anyway?

Curious, and unable to find Prunelle, Gaston made his way to the front of the gathered group, close to where the priest was standing and speaking. He went up on tip-toes and peered at the coffin-- it was open, and Gaston did not think to question that.

He was horrified to see Prunelle lying in it, perfectly still, dressed in his nice suit with his skin all pale. Overwhelmed, Gaston stumbled back, shouting, " _M'enfin!?_ No! No, it can't be!"

All of the mourners turned to look at him, and all of them frowned in harsh disapproval.

"It was _your_ fault!" Lebrac accused.

"You did this!" Sonia declared.

"You and your stupid tomato peeler!" Fantasio added.

"Who even peels tomatoes!?" Spirou demanded.

Gaston's throat felt very dry as he looked at all these people, friends and coworkers, who were treating him like a murderer.

"W-wait! I didn't mean it!" Gaston stammered. "I'm sorry! I never wanted this to happen!"

This reminded him of a dream he'd had once after reading the news. It had involved a lot of very scary images of things that still happened in certain countries under totalitarian rule. It had ended with him facing a bloodthirsty crowd. This crowd certainly looked bloodthirsty, even though he knew all these people. There were no gallows this time, but somehow that wasn't much comfort.

"You are the _worst!_ " Jeanne shrieked.

"Why did you do it?" Bertje cried.

Gaston looked around at all those angry faces, and then back down at Prunelle behind him, all still and silent. "I didn't mean it...." Gaston repeated, but his heart wasn't in it. This was his fault, right? This was something he'd caused. Him and his stupid tomato peeler. He would've done anything to take it back, to un-invent that one awful invention. Spirou was right, it had been a dumb idea from the start. How could he have thought otherwise? Weren't his inventions supposed to help people?

Somebody pushed him hard from behind then, and he stumbled forward and right over the edge of a deep, black hole in the ground that surely hadn't been there a moment ago. He gave a loud cry, tumbling through the air, into the darkness, falling and falling!


	4. Chapter 4

Gaston hit the ground with a _thump_. He felt sore from the hard little chair and from hitting the even harder linoleum floor of the hospital waiting room. _Oh,_ thank goodness, it had only been a nightmare. A terrible, awful nightmare, but the important part was that it wasn't real.

How long had he been asleep, though? He thought to check his watch, but he didn't wear one. He would have to start, he decided, as he pulled himself up off the ground. He dusted off his pants and stepped off to find a clock.

It was well past midnight. There was barely anyone around, and it was rather quiet, even for a hospital. Not seeing Lebrac anywhere, Gaston decided to try and find somebody who might be able to give him some news.

Before long, he found a nurse who was willing to tell him that Prunelle was no longer in surgery, but that he was still heavily sedated and it would be a while before Gaston could visit with him.

"But he's okay, right?" Gaston asked anxiously.

"His prospects are good, but he isn't out of the woods yet," the nurse answered, her voice kind. "He's getting the best possible care, monsieur."

Gaston frowned uneasily. "Can't I see him? I wanna talk to him, I think he will be able to hear me, or sense that I'm talking, or something. I just want him to be okay."

"I know," the nurse said. "But you can't go up to see him until morning. I'm sorry, monsieur."

Gaston clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling useless. He could argue, but that would not accomplish anything at all. His course of action was clear. He would just have to stay here until morning. And try to read less boring magazines. 

 

\--

When morning came at long last, Gaston did not stop for anything. He did not get breakfast-- the thought didn't even cross his mind. When he got focused on something, that was all there was to it.

He was given the number of Prunelle's room, and he went straightaway. He wondered what he might find, and it worried him. That was another thing he wasn't really used to, being as sheltered as he was, thanks to his mother and aunt. He had always thought that life should be something happy and pleasant, and that was why his activism was so important to him. Everyone deserved a happy and pleasant life.

Surely he hadn't denied Prunelle that? Oh, how he hated to think that he might have not only hurt someone, but hurt them badly, maybe killed them, and it wasn't just anybody, it was _Prunelle_ , and Prunelle was-- well, he was _special!_

He kept himself together as he turned the knob and stepped into the cool white hospital room. He could hear the soft hiss and ticking of machinery, and the constant beep of a monitor.

And in the middle of it all, he could see Prunelle, lying still beneath a sheet. Despite the wires and tubes,he looked very peaceful, and disturbingly quiet. And he still did not have his glasses. He was alone at the moment, Gaston noticed; where had Lebrac gone?

Shrugging, Gaston took the little chair by the bed and sat down, watching Prunelle. He got really caught up in that, studying little features of his face to pass the time until he woke up. His big nose was kinda cute. His eyebrows were a little thick, but attractive. His hair looked nice even when it hadn't been combed. His skin still looked exotic. His lips were nice, in a way that was hard to describe without sounding like the lovey-dovey books Gaston liked to read when nobody was around.

His chest felt kinda fluttery. There was something building up that was hard to place. It was something he had known about for a really long time, but he had never given it a name, really. He had just sort of accepted it. He never really thought he had wanted a relationship, because those were a lot of work. But he was starting to think he could deal with some work, for Prunelle.

He almost missed Prunelle's lashes fluttering, and his deep brown eyes slowly coming open.

"Hmmm...." Prunelle groaned.

"Prunelle?" Gaston said softly, trying to rein in his excitement so he wouldn't grab him or hurt him accidentally or anything.

"Gaston?" Prunelle answered quietly.

"You're alive," Gaston said happily, at a loss for anything better to say.

Prunelle blinked, looking right at him. It was hard for him without his glasses, Gaston knew, but that was not important now. He was awake. Groggy, but awake.

"Of course I am," Prunelle responded, his voice very weak. He did not try to sit up, and that was good. "B-but.... what happened? I feel.... awful."

"I am going to make this up to you, Prunelle, I swear." Gaston took the other man's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I will do everything for you. I'll stay in your apartment with you and wait on you and buy you new glasses. Honest!"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Prunelle asked, blinking slowly once more.

Gaston smiled. "Trust me, you're gonna be okay now. You'll see."

"I got hurt...." Prunelle said quietly. "I'm in a hospital.... Am I.... Am I really going to be okay, Gaston? It.... isn't too bad?"

Now Gaston stopped smiling. Now, his face fell, and he averted his eyes. "It was my fault," he admitted softly. "You lost a lot of blood and you had to have surgery and all.... I was really worried about you." He frowned. "You shouldn't worry me like that, Prunelle."

"Me?" Prunelle echoed, his feeble, groggy voice still managing to sound affronted. "What are you talking about, Gaston?"

Gaston leaned forward, until their faces were just inches apart. A strange new expression found its way onto Prunelle's sleepy face.

"I'm sorry, I was trying to make a joke. I know this is a lot to take in." Gaston whispered. "Just rest, okay? You're gonna be fine, I promise."

He placed a kiss on the other man's forehead. He wanted to kiss his mouth, but that was not the right thing to do now. He wanted to reassure himself as much as Prunelle that he was here, and that he was going to be okay. That was all.

That whole "getting into a relationship" thing would wait until he was back on his feet. But it was definitely something that would have to happen now, because suddenly, it really looked like that was a window that could close. Forever. And Gaston did not want that at all.

Prunelle did not say anything. He didn't even ask why Gaston did that, and Gaston hoped that it was a good sign, as he settled back down into the chair. They sat together in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the machinery, and at some point Prunelle fell asleep again.

Gaston didn't, for once. He needed to keep watching Prunelle, to be sure he was okay. The door opened and Lebrac came in with a cup of coffee. He was surprised to see Gaston there, but he didn't protest his chair having been taken, instead finding another and sitting next to Gaston to sip his coffee.

"Any change?" Lebrac whispered.

"He woke up, talked a little." Gaston answered. He nodded sagely. "He is gonna be just fine."

"What?" Lebrac tilted his head.

"He just needs to rest, don't worry." Gaston replied, perfectly factually. "He's gonna be fine."

Gaston knew Lebrac was worrying about how he "wasn't out of the woods" and all, but the artist didn't press the issue. He just sipped his coffee and joined Gaston in silently watching their sleeping friend. Gaston thought several times to talk about something, but nothing really seemed right to talk about right now, so he figured he should probably not say anything at all, and so they just kept right on sitting in silence.

But Gaston didn't mind. He liked to keep occupied, but this was fine. Peaceful. And he wanted to keep an eye on Prunelle, who was special to him, and who was going to be just fine.


End file.
